The Hidden

by Jessica Verday

  Cyn. It was Cyn. Not Kristen. Kristen was dead. Not here. Not talking to me.

  I came back to where I was. Back to the hallway, after lunch, and I wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to make sure she’d seen what I’d just seen—Vincent. Here. Touching me.

  But I stuffed all those feeling away. I shook my head, and found my voice. Smiling weakly, I said, “Secret admirer?”

  She eyed me up and down. “I don’t think so. That was some grade-A freak-out going on.”

  “It was a secret admirer I don’t particularly want gifts from.” Do I tell her about what I saw? What if it wasn’t real? …

  What if it was?

  Then I remembered my dream about the forest and the red hair. I grabbed on to her arm. “You haven’t seen a guy hanging around here lately, have you? A guy that creeps you out?”

  She looked down and tried to shake me off. “Boundaries, much?”

  I tightened my grip. “I’m serious, Cyn. If you see someone who tries to talk to you and is acting skeevy, stay away from him.”

  “Why?”

  I had to tell her about it. No matter how crazy it made me sound. “I had this dream, and it might have been about you. Or maybe it was about Kristen. She had red hair too. But it was dark red hair, like yours, and a boy was chasing her … or me. He was chasing me. Or … I don’t remember.”

  She pulled her arm away and gave me a strange look.

  “Just … be careful, okay?” I said.

  Because Vincent liked redheads. And Vincent obviously wanted to play.

  As soon as I got home from school that afternoon, I told Caspian about the perfume bottle left in my locker.

  “Any idea who put it there?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer. But the look on my face must have spoken for me.

  “So you think it was him?”

  “I think that I saw him there too. After lunch. He was in the hall and he grabbed my hand.”

  Caspian jumped up. “Do you still have the perfume? Where is it?”

  “I threw it away.”

  He started pacing. “I can’t believe this. He’s stalking you! How am I supposed to protect you? We need some backup. I need to let Kame and Uri know about this.”

  “What are they going to do? Follow me around?” I groaned. “I don’t want that.”

  Caspian stopped pacing and looked me in the eye. “From now on, I’m going everywhere with you. When your mom drops you off at school and picks you up, I’ll be there. Hell, I might even start going to class with you.”

  I put my hand out, next to his. “You don’t want to do that. You’ve already gone to high school once. Who wants to repeat that experience?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he replied.

  “So come pick me up. Every day, if you want. Like glue?”

  “Like glue.”

  Chapter Nine

  NOW OR NEVER

  … he summoned up, however, all his resolution …

  —“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

  On Wednesday I found a pile of broken glass surrounding my locker. I wasn’t sure if it was something left behind by Vincent or just the remains of someone who’d been careless with a Snapple bottle, so I told the janitor about it, and when I came back after my next class, it was gone.

  Everything changed on Friday, though. On Friday … it got weird.

  I was trying to open up my civics book to page 352 in class, when it fell across my desk with a heavy thump and opened to a page on its own. It opened because there was something stuck inside it.

  I leaned in to get a better look.

  There was a pile of small crescent-shaped crusty-looking things sitting there. Almost like dried-out pieces of hard candle wax. All of them were yellowed, except for one. It was bright red.

  Picking up one of the yellow pieces, I examined it. Is this earwax?

  That thought grossed me out, and immediately I put the yellow thing down. Using my pencil, I poked at the red one. It was shiny, and had a slightly rounded tip. That can’t be earwax. It almost looks like a …

  Fingernail.

  It looked like a fingernail.

  And then I saw the words scrawled across the pages:

  they keep growing even after you’re dead

  I slammed the book shut and stood up so hastily that my chair hit the ground behind me, and everyone turned to look. I couldn’t tell if they were looking because of the noise the chair had made, or because of the noise I had made. Something between a gasp and a scream.

  Ms. Huffner stopped writing on the chalkboard. “Is everything all right, Miss Browning?”

  “No … I … It’s …” I just stood there, looking down at the pile of fingernails someone had put in my book. “I need to …”

  It wouldn’t come out. My words were stuck inside me and the room was spinning, and why was Vincent doing this to me?

  “Do you need to go to the nurse’s office?”

  I guess I nodded or something, because she said, “Go on, then. You are wasting everyone else’s valuable time.”

  Leaving the book behind, I fled the classroom. Out in the hallway the air was cooler, and the world stopped spinning. Sliding down against some lockers, I inhaled deeply and then leaned over to put my head between my legs.

  With my eyes tightly closed, I tried to rationalize it all away.

  Those weren’t actually fingernails. They were probably just petrified pencil shavings. Or old pieces of glue and eraser. Or bits of paper. Nodding meant that I had to agree with those thoughts, so I did. It was easier that way.

  Standing up slowly, I pushed myself away from the wall and detoured to the bathroom. I’d just go hide out in there until the bell rang.

  At the end of the day, I went outside to hang out by the curb to wait for Caspian. Cyn was there, smoking a cigarette, and I sat down beside her.

  “We’re always running into each other,” I said. “Have you noticed that?”

  She exhaled and then shrugged. “That’s what happens when you have nothing to do in a small town and a mother who makes you wait for a ride. You?”

  “About the same.”

  She offered her cigarette to me, and I blanked. I’d never smoked before. Had never really felt the urge to, so it wasn’t something I’d thought about.

  She extended her wrist farther. “Are you going to take it, or just stare at it?”

  “I’ve never … I don’t smoke.”

  “First time for everything.”

  The cigarette butt ashed, and then the ash flaked away. It looked kind of gross, but she had a point. And it was now or never. It wasn’t like I had my whole life ahead of me to change my mind.

  I took it from her hand and placed it to my lips. It was thin and papery-tasting. Smoke wafted up into my eyes, and I inhaled deeply. I didn’t know if I was supposed to count to ten or something, but finally Cyn said, “Whoa, whoa. Exhale.”

  I think I swallowed some of the exhale, because it felt like my lungs were going to explode. I coughed and choked, smoke wheezing out of me in little gasps.

  Cyn laughed. But it wasn’t a mean laugh, and as soon as I was able to, I was laughing too. It suddenly felt like I’d just done something monumental. Like climbing Mount Everest, or hiking the Great Wall of China.

  She took the cigarette back and demonstrated. “Like this.” After inhaling for a second, she pulled the butt away and tipped her head to the side, exhaling a stream of smoke.

  “Let me try it again,” I said, reaching for it. She handed it over, and I mimicked her actions.

  The second time wasn’t so bad, and I coughed only a little bit as the smoke leaked out of me. It was a strange feeling. One I wasn’t entirely sure about.

  “That one’s almost out,” Cyn said. “You want another?”

  Little pieces of ash sprinkled down onto my jeans, and I glanced down, brushing them to the side. “No. I don’t think so.” I ran my tongue over my teeth. They felt funny. “My mouth tastes gross, l
ike a combination of—”

  A shadow fell over me, and I looked up.

  “Smoking on school property is naughty,” Vincent said, wagging his finger. “Are you being naughty schoolgirls?”

  My first instinct was to scramble away from him as fast as possible, but I tried to control myself. I didn’t want to show him fear. Digging my palms into the asphalt beneath me, I felt the sharp sting of tiny rocks and hard cement.

  “This isn’t a spectator sport,” Cyn said. “Get lost, asshole.”

  His hair was still blond, like Caspian’s. And although it wasn’t flat-ironed and lying across his face like it had been when he’d been on the bed in my bedroom, the streak of black was still there. It sent a shock wave through me. How closely he resembled Caspian.

  Vincent sat down between us, and I was too scared to move.

  “I like your hair,” he said to Cyn. “Red is definitely your color. Mine, too.”

  “Don’t care. Move the fuck on,” she replied.

  My senses were starting to flood with awareness, and I knew I couldn’t sit there—right next to him—for much longer.

  Cyn turned to stare at him, and I flattened my palms on the ground, readying myself. I had hit him once before. I could do it again if I had to.

  “Did we invite you to sit here?” she said. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Oooh, spicy! Abbey knows how much I like the spicy ones.” He leaned into my ear and whispered, “Delicious. Just like Kristen.”

  I pulled away, horrified.

  Before I could stop him, Vincent reached over and laced his hand through mine. “As to who I am? I’m Abbey’s boyfriend. Didn’t she tell you? My name is … Caspian.”

  I jerked my hand out of his so hard and so fast that I fell forward off the curb and landed against the street. “No—no you’re not,” I managed to say.

  Cyn gasped, and Vincent laughed. Then he stood up.

  “Don’t smoke too much, girls,” he called, sauntering away. “Naughty, naughty, naughty!”

  A minute later a black Mustang roared away from us, turning around a corner and racing past a stop sign. I rocked back and watched him go.

  And then I leaned forward again, and puked.

  Cyn helped me get cleaned up in the school locker room, and I kept apologizing to her. She kept telling me to stop, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know if I was apologizing for making such an idiot out of myself, or apologizing for feeling so helpless. Either way, it sucked.

  “I can’t believe that happened,” I said, bent over the sink. “Talk about humiliating.”

  “It was probably just the cigarette,” Cyn replied. “Or the fact that that guy was a major douche bag. I thought he looked like trouble.”

  I rinsed and spit. “Major douche bag” was only the half of it.

  “Is he an ex?” she asked hesitantly.

  “No.”

  I didn’t say any more, and she didn’t prod. I gargled and spit again, then turned off the water. We went back outside, and an old white Honda was sitting there.

  “Come on,” she said. “You’re getting a ride.”

  “I can walk. It’s not that far.”

  She pointed to the car, and her eyes went wide. “Get. In.”

  Her tone told me not to argue, so I followed orders. Cyn’s mom didn’t say anything as I got into the backseat, and Cyn was the one to ask for directions when she got into the front.

  They dropped me off, and the house was silent when I walked in. That made me nervous.

  “Caspian?” I called. “Are you here?”

  There was no answer.

  I headed to my bedroom as fast as I could, trying to quell the rising panic in my stomach. Where is he? Why isn’t he answering me? Did something happen?

  Pushing open the bedroom door, my heart sank straight to my feet when I saw someone lying on the bed.

  Vincent’s here again.

  I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My knees threatened to give out, and little black spots sprung up at the edges of my vision. Breathe … I was forgetting to breathe. I took a huge gasp of air and put one hand on the wall to steady myself so I wouldn’t fall right over. And then the person on the bed sat up.

  It almost felt like my heart was going to seize up again, only this time out of relief when I saw that it was Caspian.

  “Abbey?” he said. “What are you …? Are you okay?”

  I clutched my chest. Caspian rubbed his eyes, and then he got up and came over to me. I put up a finger in response. “Just a minute. Just give me a minute. I think I’m having a heart attack. Twice.”

  He looked around. “What time is it? I was supposed to meet you at school. What happened?”

  “I waited for you, but you never came. And then …” I glanced back at the bed, putting two and two together. “Were you sleeping?”

  Caspian ran a hand through his hair, messing the back up a bit, and he glanced at the bed too. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened. One minute I was here and it was eleven o’clock. Then the next …” Realization dawned, and his look of confusion turned to anger. “I can’t believe I fell asleep!”

  The sleeping thing concerned me, but I needed to wash off the remnants of seeing Vincent again before I could think about what it all meant. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to go take a bath.”

  A strange look crossed his face as I passed by. “Is that smoke?” he asked. “And vomit?”

  Embarrassment filled me. “Yeah. Cyn was waiting for her mom too, and she was smoking outside. I shared her cigarette and it didn’t agree with me. Hence the hurling.”

  I limped into the bathroom and started pulling towels down from the cupboard.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” Caspian said.

  “I don’t. I mean, I never did before. This was just something new I wanted to try. Figured I wouldn’t get another chance, so why not?” I turned on the faucet and adjusted the water temperature.

  “Is this … going to be a permanent thing?” he asked slowly, a worried look on his face.

  “God, no. Once and done. Now, can we please not talk about it anymore?”

  He nodded, and I shut the door behind me. All I needed was a good soak in some hot water, and then I’d be ready to tell Caspian the important part.

  About Vincent.

  It wasn’t until later that night that I was able to work up my courage to tell him about what else had happened. He’d just finished reading three chapters of Jane Eyre, and I didn’t want to ruin the perfect moment. Time felt suspended when it was just me and him, together in our own little world, away from everything and everyone. Nothing mattered except the words on the page he was reading from, and the lilt of his voice as he spoke.

  Closing my eyes, I took a breath and then said, “There’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t want you to get upset. So please don’t, okay?”

  Would he be even more upset with himself that he’d fallen asleep and missed the chance to make sure Vincent didn’t do anything to me?

  He closed the book and put it down on the bed. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”

  “Probably a nine.”

  “Okay …”

  “Just remember that I had a really bad day today, and I threw up in front of someone at school, and there was puke on my shoes,” I said in a rush of words. “And Vincent Drake was there.”

  “At school?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Cyn saw him too. He came up to us outside and sat beside me.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Held my hand and told Cyn that he was you.”

  He was silent for a long time and then said, “Did you throw up before or after he was there?”

  “Right after.”

  He leaned back and looked away. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand not knowing w
hat he was thinking, so I asked him, “Are you upset? At me? At him? Tell me.”

  “I’m disappointed,” he said. “It kind of feels like you kept this from me.”

  “But I didn’t!” I justified. “I’m telling you now.”

  “Several hours after it happened.”

  “I … I just didn’t know what to do.”

  “You could have let me in. You could have told me right away.”

  “But I’m telling you now. And you were asleep. And …”

  “Well, I’m glad I know now,” he said.

  But he didn’t sound glad. And I didn’t feel glad. Instead I just felt worse.

  Chapter Ten

  WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING

  Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a scramble and a bound stood at once in the middle of the road.

  —“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

  I knew right away that something was wrong when I woke up the next morning. Caspian was next to me, and he looked like he was taking a nap. But something was different. I could feel it.

  “Caspian,” I said. “Are you sleeping again? I thought you didn’t need to sleep.” I got up and walked over to the side of the bed where he was lying, and stood directly over him. “Wake up.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Come on, Casper. Wake up!” I said again, louder. My instinct was to shake him, even thought I knew I couldn’t touch him. I called his name again and again, feeling a growing sense of unease. Why is this happening? What does it mean?

  “Wake up. Why won’t you wake up?” I said.

  Finally I gave in. I reached down to touch him, and my hand went through his. But I didn’t feel the buzz or tingle that should have been there.

  I moved my arm back and forth—over his head, on his shoulder, up his arm. There was nothing. Not even a blip. It was like we were totally cut off.

  I stumbled back, threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and raced down to the kitchen. Sophie and Kame’s number was there, on a business card they’d given to Mom, and I needed to talk to them now. I needed to know what was going on.